Drinking Games
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Office parties at the Ministry are boring. Luckily for Amelia, John has a solution.


_For the Climb to the Top of Mount Potter Challenge (wasted) and 100 Ways to Say I Love You Challenge ("Can I kiss you?")_

* * *

It still amazes Amelia exactly how boring office parties can be. The Ministry is made up of so many wonderful people, but throw them all together in one setting, and she'd much rather be home, sleeping.

"You look like you need a drink."

Amelia rolls her eyes. "Not everyone needs alcohol to have a good time, Dawlish," she teases, though she accepts the glass wine he hands her.

"But it does make things more interesting. You'll be amazed at how many people you can tolerate if you're wasted. I'm making a game of it."

She raises her brows, taking a sip. She knows she shouldn't humor him. A drinking game with John Dawlish sounds like a terrible idea. But she can't resist. "Drink whenever…?"

"Oh, there's loads of things to drink for. Drink when Tonks changes her appearance. Drink when Malfoy mentions his family's contributions to the Ministry. Or when Crouch gives anyone a disapproving look. The possibilities are endless," John says proudly.

Amelia giggles. She definitely shouldn't play along. But just at that moment, Tonks changes her to long, pale locks that look suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy's. Amelia lifts her drink before taking a deep swallow, and John follows suit. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" she asks.

John grins and wraps an arm around her. "Come now, Milly. Would I ever lead you astray? Actually, don't answer that."

…

She's on her third glass whenever Lucius Malfoy becomes the center of attention. Amelia groans. "Oh, I can tell my liver is about to hate him," she whispers.

"As many know, my father was very generous to the Ministry," Lucius says.

John snorts before lifting his glass to his lips. With a sigh, Amelia takes another deep drink.

"Before him, my grandfather knew that there was no better place to invest his gold than in our government."

"Oh, for crying out loud," she murmurs, taking another drink. "We'll have alcohol poisoning before he even finishes his speech."

John almost chokes on his drink. "Maybe I should stop drinking. Someone will need to brew you an antidote," he offers.

"Nice try, Dawlish. But if I have a hangover from hell tomorrow, you will to," she laughs, leaning against him.

She feels him tense, and she can't help but to smirk. He's spent years flirting with her. Now that she's making subtle moves, he seems to grow shy.

"Milly," he says softly.

She giggles. She's always hated his little nickname for her. But, now, it's funny, almost sweet. Amelia leans in. "Can I kiss you?"

John sighs and takes a step back, placing his hands on her sides. "Maybe we ought to get you home. You must be pretty drunk to think kissing me is a good idea."

"I'm not _that_ drunk," she insists with a pout, but her feet make a liar out of her, and she stumbles, grateful for John standing so close.

"Ask me again when you're completely sober."

…

"I really would like to kiss you," she mumbles, a pitiful pout on her lips.

John snorts. "Try again later," he says, helping her into bed.

Amelia smiles, staring up at him. "You really are a sweet guy."

"Oh, Milly. Sweet Milly. You've definitely had too much to drink."

…

"Well, how's your head?" John asks, popping into her office the next day.

"I keep a hangover cure on standby," she says.

John raises his brows. "Milly, you party girl!"

Amelia scowls. "Amelia," she corrects. "And hardly. It came in handy to keep some on hand growing up."

With a shrug, John steps closer. The smug look on his face makes Amelia want to hex him, but she resists. "Still think kissing me would be a good idea?"

"Yes," she answers without hesitation.

"See? I knew you'd change your mind once you- Wait… What?"

"Why are you so surprised? You've been flirting with me for years now. Perhaps I'm not as immune to your charm as I'd like to be," she says, climbing to her feet and moving in front of her desk.

"Not here," John says. "After work. Dinner?"

"Dinner sounds lovely. Just one glass of wine this time. I promise."


End file.
